


whatever we've done, whatever we'll do

by feyluke



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, and as you can see i haven't done anything to remedy that, comma splices abound!, do jotuns write in runes?, don't question me it's ~art~~, half of this is a crappy transcription of a scene from the movie lmfao, i am but a tispy writer making a half-assed attempt at rediscovering her passion, i'm so sorry i don't remember, wtf is loki's favourite scent lmfao idk either he's a weirdo ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 04:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19143658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feyluke/pseuds/feyluke
Summary: what the hell happened between thor finding out loki's still alive and going through the bifrost to midgard? WELL. a tender and loving bath with anger and hurt simmering under the rose petal covered surface, that's what the hell happened





	whatever we've done, whatever we'll do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inflomora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inflomora/gifts).



> cay: “today’s shower thoughts: someone write bath thorki where thor washes loki’s hair pls and thank u” 
> 
> ask and you shall receive BITCH

when loki reveals himself, it's a swift punch to thor's stomach 

that tiny piece of him still holding out for loki's goodness, that tiny piece that was so sure that he was wrong, so damn sure that he was absolutely insane for threatening his father of being his dead brother, shrivels up even further 

"where's odin?" he grinds out. _i can't believe you're alive._

__

__

"you just couldn't stay away, could you?" loki begins, trying to sway the conversation. "everything was _fine_ without you. asgard was prospering! you've ruined everything." 

that devilish grin, a flimsy attempt at pacification. he's really getting into it now 

"ask them!" loki further implores, looking around to the onlookers, gaining short-lived confidence 

thor begins to advance and loki's backing away, frantic; it's almost comical, really, this dance they insist upon. thor is all but growling at this point. he feels feral and can't - doesn't want to - do anything about it. he's all but choking on his words: 

    "where's father?" _i saw you die_

    "did you kill him?" _i mourned you_

"you had what you wanted!" loki, predictably, deflects even further. he continues, desperately, as he falls back onto the chair: "you had the independence you asked for!" 

thor drops his hammer on loki's chest, holding him in place, making him stop, just stop. _i cried for you_

_i_

     _cried_

         _for_

             _you_

loki stops, acquiesces 

 

before they leave to midgard, they will rest. they will leave in the morning, thor says, rough and wounded 

fine, loki says, sharp and dismissive, whatever _the king_ wants 

 

when loki slips quietly into thor's chambers early the next morning, there is already a thick layer of visible steam coating the entire room. it's the kind that requires a person to adjust their breathing to accommodate the change in air density; it slows everything down, makes every motion more careful, more deliberate 

thor sits on the edge of the bathtub, muscles taut, feet gingerly dipped in as he slowly acclimates his skin to the temperature. (he, of course, pretends not to notice the intrusion.) loki rolls his eyes and grabs a basin, running cold water into it. thor leans back a bit to give loki room to pour the cold water into the tub and moves the water around with his foot 

it's an old routine from when they were children; loki had forgotten how exasperated and fond thor could make him all at once with the most mundane of things 

(forgotten how nice it felt to take care of someone other than himself) 

thor's skin is coated with droplets of condensation and loki drags a fingertip along thor's bicep, unconsciously drawing the Jotun rune for "apology." he's not fully aware of it until thor gently pushes his hand away. thor's hardly used any force, but the rejection is a profound and large cavern between them that loki is temporarily at a loss to bridge 

loki huffs in derision, a defensive reflex. he strips off his clothes and climbs into the tub, sighing as he leans back. the perfumed bathwater is the perfect temperature and the smell of lavender vanilla with a touch of mango and pineapple (his favourite, damn thor for remembering his favourite) calms his frayed nerves 

he can face this; 

    he _will_ face this 

loki slides his gaze over to thor and raises an eyebrow. he risks pushing thor further into the near-growling brooding and allows his mouth to curl up into his signature devil’s grin; an invitation 

thor's mouth hesitantly crooks up in the corner, a burst of light slowly and painfully expanding in loki's chest 

when thor, the enormous brute, gracefully settles between loki's legs and leans back against his chest, long golden hair sticking to loki's skin and the ends billowing out in the water, it's every pang of homesickness loki has felt since he fell off the bifrost - every sharp stab of _i'm sorry i'm so sorry_ since he removed himself from his brother's orbit - alleviated in one simple motion and smoothed over with _i am home_ reverberating along his ribcage 

loki closes his eyes and presses his nose into thor's hair, breathing in deep. (why he ever deprives himself of this in the name of his punishments of thor, he'll never know.) thor's hand has curled up against loki's neck, finding the pulse, the unspoken _i saw you die_ heavy between them, loki's guilt heavier, both masked for now by the rising steam 

 

eventually, at thor’s request, they switch places 

loki has a biting comment on the tip of his tongue about spoons and fragile masculinity that he bites back when thor reaches for a bottle of shampoo and squeezes some into his hand 

(he’d forgotten this, too) 

    (forgotten how, without any prompting at all, goddamn _tender_ thor is) 

        (forgotten what being cared for is like) 

the first press of thor’s fingers into loki’s hair has him audibly groaning. it'd be easier both on thor and on loki’s pride if he would just sit up forward, but _no_ , he has to sink back into thor’s chest and (embarrassingly) widen his legs, lifting one off the edge of the tub 

he can’t see thor’s smirk but he can feel it, lazily drifting through the steam and permeating itself into every fibre of loki’s body. loki's mouth is open, goddamn _wanton_ , but he feels powerless, all guards and defenses completely absent. the drawbridge is down and the enemy is flooding the castle and the damsel in distress is flinging herself into harm’s way without thinking twice 

(he justifies it by telling himself that this is what _thor_ needs, it’s what will make _thor_ feel better) 

loki knows (and is forced to acknowledge) just how sentimental he's feeling when, much to his dismay, blood red rose petals appear, floating on the surface of the bath water that now smells like plain vanilla (he can be considerate of his lover's favourite scent, too) 

he groans, hating thor (loving thor) and wishing just for once that he was as mysterious as he insists on being, that he could hide _something_ from thor without the buffon plucking it up and rolling it between his fingers, satisfied and smug expression sure to be overtaking his disgustingly handsome face 

     _i am finally home_

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [tumblr](http://www.feyluke.tumblr.com) :)


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